There was a girl. She was seven years old. She had a small family. She was the youngest child of family. She was an innocent, charming and a little fairy with youthful dreams. She liked to spend time in a garden near her house. She loved to smell flowers in the garden. She was always looking for a new color of a flower to pickle. Because, what had been more cherishing thing for a seven years old child to discover a new color, every day. Her father was an old poor man. He had a shop for repairing bicycles. They had hardly been making both ends meet. Little angle, neglecting the sadness behind the broad smile of her parents, had many dreams in her nut sized brain. She dreamed of having a big house, a car and her own garden. She was too young to face the reality of this world. Her fantasy world never stops. It was keeps on increasing with her age.
As she went to garden, she made many friends. They belonged to different classes. This made her dreams land more fascinating and alluring than they were before. Because these classes were made by society, not by an educational system. When she talked about a big house, good clothes, a car and gadgets to her parents. She was slapped so hardly; by the reality of this world. The fantasy world of her, was declared to own by a small piece of paper; money! Money that her parents could hardly earn to meet the daily requirements of her life. Her whole world was in a need of paper. A special type of paper; that was made by the same paper; she used to write her dreams on. This type of paper had the smallest place in her life, not by choice; but by fate. This was the fate that was chosen by the world for the poor. To not dream of fancy clothes, a good house, a car for going school, a garden for pickling and smelling flowers and everything that can made their lives easier and worthful.
Special Thanks to Fareena Akram